


Year 1

by theasexualhedgehog



Series: Pies and Pitches [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Quidditch AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-25 02:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 4,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12026616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theasexualhedgehog/pseuds/theasexualhedgehog
Summary: Eric Bittle used to play for a soft Bludger league in his hometown in Georgia. Now a freshman at Samwell University, can he navigate a new world of Quidditch, college frat parties, and more?





	1. Prologue

Eric Bittle rolled, ducking the opposing team’s Chaser, squinting through his goggles for a flash of gold. Cheering from the crowd and commentary all merged into white noise, Eric’s focus completely on finding the Snitch. He slowly rose above the rest of the players, scanning for any sign of the Snitch. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the other team’s Seeker, who suddenly dived towards the ground. Eric quickly scanned the ground, spotting the Snitch flying towards his team’s goalposts. He leaned forward, flying parallel to the little gold ball. Keeping his eye trained on the Snitch, Eric suddenly dived, reaching out. His fingers had just wrapped around the sun-warmed gold when something slammed into his shoulder. Eric fell from his broom, luckily only a few feet from the ground, rolling in the grass. The referee’s whistle blew three short bursts, signalling end of match. Xander, the captain of the Madison Manticores, landed next to Eric on the ground.  
“All right, Ricky?” Xander asked, pulling the smaller player to his feet. Eric nodded.  
“Sorry about losing the match, though. I was this close…” Eric trailed off as Xander laughed.  
“Rick, open your hand.” Eric opened his fingers, not realizing they’d been clenched in a fist. Silvery wings spread and Eric could feel the Snitch vibrating in his hand. He’d won the match. Xander clapped him on the non-injured shoulder. “Good thing we play soft-Bludger. That thing would’ve at least broken something when it knocked you from your broom. As it is, Rick, Coach is gonna make you get checked for a concussion.” Eric felt a cold chill run down his spine at the thought of getting hit with a Bludger, a real Bludger.  
“Hah, yeah,” He offered weakly. “Good thing.”


	2. Chapter 1

Boxes covered every available space, leaving a small path to the door. Eric looked around his freshman dorm room, thrilled at finally being in college and being on a real Quidditch team. His roommate wouldn’t arrive for another week and a half, but the college sports teams were in preseason, including the Quidditch team. This afternoon would be the first time he would get to meet the whole team. Deciding to explore his floor a little before finishing unpacking, Eric left his room, humming a Beyoncé song. He found the kitchen quickly. For a dorm kitchen, it was mostly clean. The appliances were old but well-maintained, and since the dorm had been thoroughly cleaned since the students left in May it didn’t have the stink of three day old ramen and burned popcorn. An idea formed in Eric’s mind, slowly. He pulled out his phone, quickly searching where to find the ingredients to make pecan pie. 

 

~29 hours later~

 

Eric sat at his desk, staring at nothing. He was horrified by how the boys on the team tore apart his pie. The things they did…. He will never forget. Eric spun in his desk chair, staring at the calendar. Frosh orientation was a little over a week away, which meant his roommate was moving in soon. Rather than think about the poor pecan pie, Eric plotted what he would make for his roommate.


	3. Chapter 2

By the time classes started, Eric was…. Almost getting used to his new teammates. Shitty, a Chaser, was very energetic, always going on some rant about an injustice in the world, but he was alway kind to Eric and made sure he felt welcome at team breakfast. Ransom and Holster, the team’s best Beaters, mostly stuck together, but they were known to ask Eric about his opinions on certain girls. Jack though…. Jack was a mystery. He was a Chaser and the team captain. His father was a world-renown Beater, and everyone knew Jack was just as good. It was just that Jack didn’t talk to many people. He hung out with Shitty a lot, but honestly Shitty could probably talk enough for the both of them. He’d barely said more than “Eat more protein” to Eric. Still, the team meshed well, and Eric enjoyed practices. He was working harder than he’d ever worked before, even when the Madison Manticores were going to the Regional Cup. 

The hardest part of practice was the Bludgers. No more soft Bludger league for Eric, he was playing college Quidditch, which sometimes led to the National Quidditch League, which meant regular, hard-hitting Bludgers. The first time Ransom hit a Bludger in his general direction, Eric fell from his broom and curled up on the ground, paralyzed with terror. Luckily he was barely a foot off the ground, as Coach hadn’t yet released the Snitch and everyone else was getting warmed up. 

“Ya know, I think we can make a play out of this,” Eric heard faintly as he was hauled to his feet by Coach Murray. He sat out for most of practice, only returning to the pitch at the end when Coach released the Snitch for speed trials. 

Jack cornered Coaches Murray and Hall in their office after practice. “What is he even doing here?” Jack asked, voice low with anger. 

Hall and Murray exchanged a glance before Murray responded, “You should’ve seen the kid’s tape. He’s a damn good Quidditch player, he’s just…. Got a problem with the Bludgers. Nothing that can’t be worked on.”

Jack shook his head. “If he can’t hack a hard Bludger league he shouldn’t be here, plain and simple. Get rid of him.” 

Coach Hall crossed his arms. “Sure, Jack, we can do that. We’ll let him go, maybe another college team will pick him up and help him with his fear, then they go on to win the College World Cup. Because, let’s face it, Bittle is a damn good player.” Jack’s face remained stony as he walked away. Little did the coaches know, he was forming a plan.


	4. Chapter 3

Eric stood with the rest of the frogs in the front yard of a very dilapidated house. Shitty stood on the front porch, grandstanding for the freshmen. Eric followed the others inside the Haus, only half paying attention. Almost immediately, Eric noticed the kitchen to the left of the entryway. After quickly looking through the kitchen and mourning the state of the oven, he set to work, making a mixed berry pie in record time. He turned away from the oven to see Holster, Ransom, Shitty, and the rest of the tour group standing in the kitchen, shock, and hunger, on their faces. 

“Kitchen magic runs in my family so sometimes pies just…. Appear when I’m in one…” Eric said sheepishly.

“Bro, you just earned yourself 24/7 access to the Haus,” Shitty declared, officially making the Haus kitchen the one place Eric would bake. He looked around the kitchen again as the boys drifted away, wondering how much they’d let him fix up the place. A good cleaning, that was needed for sure, maybe a new coat of paint, some curtains…. 

A few weeks later, Eric wasn’t so sure if he was going to be able to use the Haus kitchen much longer. Practice was getting harder and harder, and it felt like his fear was increasing every time a Bludger flew past him, rather than getting used to 149 pounds of iron flying by his head and potentially knocking him out, or worse, killing him. He wanted to quit, but Samwell was expensive, and he really did love the sport. On the cons side, other than the Bludgers, was Jack Zimmermann. There were times when Jack seemed ok, but more often than not he was getting in Eric’s face for being afraid. The team was able to clear some of the air in the locker room after Jack chewed him out in front of everyone at practice.

“I mean, I get it, man. If I was the son of Bad Bob, I’d be super strict and stressed out too when the season rolled around,” Shitty said as he unlaced his boots. 

“Who’s Bad Bob?” Eric asked. The group paused what they were doing and stared at Eric. “Wait. What did I… Y’all quit staring at me like that! This is exactly what happened before the Quodpot team locked me in a utility closet overnight in 7th grade.” 

Shitty just shook his head. “Bro, just Google him.”

Eric sat in front of his computer, staring at the screen. Bad Bob Zimmermann was a Quidditch legend. The man won 4 Quidditch Cups, three with the Montreal Manticores and one with the Pittsburgh Phoenix. He’d also gone to the Quidditch World Cup with Team Canada…. Many, many times. Eric leaned back in his chair. He understood, having a famous athlete for a father must have been difficult, and the pressure Jack must be under is enormous, but that didn’t excuse Jack of being an ass towards him.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter only: anxiety, overdose, suicide attempt.

Once upon a time there was a prince. From a young age he knew he was destined for greatness, for he knew that one day he would inherit the kingdom of his father. But the prince also had a secret. He was scared of failure. Terrified of it. So completely frightened of not being as good a king as his father, that he would stay up every night braced with the fear of mediocrity. And so the prince took a medicine to calm his anxiety… and he slew trolls! And he took more… and he slew dragons! But one day he took too much. And nearly lost everything. So he was banished. The kingdom would not have him. He was the talk of the countryside, an embarrassment to his family, and most importantly, a disappointment… to the King. But the prince would concoct a plan. He would venture back to the land of the Queen. There, he would reclaim greatness… and thereby gain entrance to the kingdom. And all was going well… until Eric came along.


	6. Chapter 5

Hall and Murray sat in the coach’s office, studying practice tapes and writing the lineup for the next match. Hall leaned back in his chair, tapping his quill against his chin.

“What if we moved Bittle to Chaser?” he asked Murray. 

Murray glanced over at the screen Hall was watching. “It’s not a bad idea,” he mused, carefully watching a video of Eric playing Chaser. “Who’s he on line with?”

“Uhh,” Hall shuffled through some papers, finding the one he was looking for. “Knight and Zimmermann.” The two men looked at each other.

“Well, it’ll be an interesting game,” Murray commented, making a note about changing Bittle’s position for the next match. 

 

“Bittle, you’re playing Chaser today!” Coach Murray yelled into the locker room before continuing on to the coaches office. Eric froze as he pulled on his pads. He was a freshman, starting a college Quidditch match. What could go wrong? Oh yeah, he was on a line with Jack Zimmermann, who still seemed to hate him. At least Shitty was on that line as well, so someone might pass to him. 

Eric had made a few good passes during the game, but Samwell was still down 30-50. Neither Seeker had come close to catching the Snitch, and they had only been playing for two hours. Eric was flying up the right side of the field when the opposing team dropped the Quaffle. Eric snagged it and looped towards the goal, flying fast and hard to make it. One of the other team’s Beaters, a big, ugly looking guy, swung a Bludger in Eric’s direction. He panicked for a moment, but managed to throw the Quaffle to Shitty and roll out of the way. A cheer went up in the stadium, Shitty scored. Eric let out a yell, excited by his first assist of the year.

 

Of course, there was a Haus party after their win today. It was a frat house after all. 

“The Samwell Quidditch bylaws clearly state that the frog who gets the first point of the season will be the first frog to do the season’s first official Kegster!” Shitty proclaimed. Ransom and Holster grabbed Eric by the arms.

“Hey, where’s Jack? Doesn’t he live here?” Eric wasn’t sure if he was trying to distract the boys or he was genuinely curious. 

“Eh, Jack doesn’t really do parties.” Ransom explained as he and Holster lifted Eric into a handstand position above the keg. Eric didn’t hear the rest of what was said over Shitty yelling “LESS CHIT CHAT MORE ALCOHOL ABUSE!” and the spout that was shoved into his mouth.


	7. Chapter 6

Eric groaned as he rolled over. His phone was ringing, softly playing the beginning of “Halo”. 

“‘Lo?” He said, trying to wake himself up enough to care why someone was calling. 

“Faber Pitch. 15 minutes.” Weirdly, Jack Zimmerman was on the other end of the line, which made Eric think this wasn’t a prank. Jack hung up without letting Eric answer. Eric glanced at the time. Why did Jack Zimmermann want him on the pitch at 4am on a Sunday?

 

To be fair, Eric wasn’t expecting practice. 

“You know, the sunrise is beautiful over the field.” Jack said as Eric approached. Eric saw the chest on the ground by Jack’s feet and figured they were going to run Chaser drills. 

“Look, last match was the first time in a long time that I played Chaser. I’m usually a Seeker, I don’t know why Coach Murray made me a Chaser-” Eric started to explain.

“Bittle, get in the air and get along the right side of the pitch.” Jack ordered as he pulled something out of the chest and mounted his own broom. Eric obeyed apprehensively. Following Jack’s lead, he stayed about 4 feet off the ground. He yelped in fear as a Bludger came whizzing towards him. Within moments, the foam ball hit Eric in the chest softly, and Eric was curled around himself on the ground. 

“Geeze are you-” Jack broke off as Eric sniffed.

“What in the deep fried hell was that?” Eric demanded, trying to control his fear.

“I hit a foam ball to you slow. It’s not even a soft Bludger. Seriously, Bittle.” Jack answered, concern coloring his voice. “Look, you can see the pitch well, you got good hands, you’re a great flyer- But you’ve got this stupid mental block about getting hit by a Bludger. If that’s the only thing holding you back we’re going to get you over it. Just trust me, ok?” That was probably the most Jack has ever said to me that wasn’t yelling at me, Eric thought, but he nodded anyway. 

“How long are we going to keep doing this?” Eric asked as Jack mounted his broom again.

“Until you stop being scared,” Jack responded threateningly. “But actually there’s a youth Quidditch tournament today so we have to get out of here by 7.”


	8. Chapter 7

Eric’s mother snapped yet another picture of her son in front of the Faber Pitch. 

“Dicky, this place is amazing!” She squealed with excitement. Eric’s mother was a witch, but she’d spent most of her time in the Muggle world with Eric’s father.

“Anyway, the family section is over there. Justin and Adam’s parents are going to be here so you can sit with them,” Eric said, trying to steer the conversation.

“Oh! Will Bob Zimmermann be here? Does he have a spot where he usually sits? And don’t you think his son looks just like him?” Eric and his mother walked along the side of the pitch. 

Eric rolled his eyes.“Mother! If you tell anyone you were Googling Jack and his dad I WILL HAVE A CONNIPTION.” 

His mother laughed as she slung her arm around his shoulders. “Dicky, you have no idea. Way back when, your aunt Connie had all his little cards even though she’d never seen a Quidditch match. He was like the Jonas Brothers rolled into one with a slice of Tim Tebow.”

Eric rolled his eyes again, but smiled too. His mother wasn’t wrong, if Jack looked anything like his father they certainly were both handsome men. 

“Honestly, though, Dicky, I’m worried about you. Some of these Beater’s are huge, and the Bludgers are iron.” Eric’s mother worried. “You’re only 5’7”.”

“5’6” and a half and I blame that on your genes,” Eric teased. “But I’ve been getting help from… one of the guys on the team. I haven’t fainted in three matches.” 

“Still,” Eric’s mother sighed. “Ever since you got knocked from your broom in peewee Quidditch, you’ve been terrified.”

“I know, Mother, I know. Come on, this apple pie isn’t going to bake itself,” Eric led his mother towards the Haus, happily chatting about new recipes for the two to try.


	9. Chapter 8

Eric was walking back from the old supply closet when he heard the stream of French coming from the shipping bay. He peaked his head around the corner to see Jack sitting there, on the phone with presumably his father. Their conversation ended, and Jack sat there with his head in his hands. Eric made a split second decision. 

“Are you ok?” He stepped onto the dock and sat next to Jack. “Pre-match jitters?”

“No. Well, something like that.” Jack answered, staring at the ground.

“Oh! Well, I always managed to get myself worked up before matches, especially if my dad was watching. I’d always manage to flub my throws or miss an easy catch or something if I knew he was watching me.” Eric noticed Jack wasn’t responding. “Er, but it happens to everyone!” He tried cheering up his captain. 

Jack smiled. “Thanks, Bittle,” he responded. 

“You kidding?” Eric said. “I should be the one thanking you for the Bludger clinics.”

Both men stood to go back to the locker room. “Just promise me you won’t fall off your broom at center pitch tonight and we’ll be even,” Jack said, offering Eric a fist bump. 

Eric knocked his knuckles against Jack’s, commenting “A fist bump! I didn’t know you did those.”

Jack laughed. “You’ve gotta work for them. Come on, we’re gonna be late for strategy.” Eric followed Jack inside, hoping against hope that Jack didn’t hate him anymore.

 

Eric zoomed around the pitch, keeping pace with Shitty. Shitty had the Quaffle and a clear path to the goal posts, all he needed was to get close enough. The Keeper was flying close to the edge of the scoring area. Out of nowhere a Bludger nailed Shitty, who almost dropped the Quaffle. He tossed it to Eric, yelling “Bitty, your left!”  
Eric scooped up the ball, tucking it under his arm. The other team’s Beater had him in his sights, and was preparing to slam a Bludger in his direction. Eric gulped, and listening to the yelled instructions of his teammates, threw the Quaffle. It flew just over the right shoulder of the Keeper and into a goalpost, bringing Samwell ahead of Yale. Before Eric could process that he’d scored a goal, Shitty had already tackled him in a hug, along with Ransom and Holster. 

 

Eric stood in the hallway leading to the locker room, talking with his mother. She was gushing with pride over Eric’s goal, even though he was bone tired and really needed a shower. 

“Just one more picture, please,” Eric’s mother begged.

“Would you like one of us to take it for you?” Eric and his mother turned at the sound of a Canadian-accented voice. “Although you might want Jack- he’s always been a better shot than me.”

Eric couldn’t believe a Quidditch legend was standing behind him. He barely heard Jack introduce him to his father. “Nice to meet you Bad B- Oh. Uh. Mister Bad B- Ah. U-Um. Mister Jack’s Dad.” Eric stuttered, shaking Bob’s hand.

Bob chuckled. “Please, just call me Bob. That was an excellent goal you made today, son. You’re quite the Quidditch player. Although I’m sure Jack would’ve wanted to make that goal for himself.” 

Jack pulled away from his father. “I’m going shower up,” he said, turning away from the group. 

 

Eric spotted Jack leaving the Faber locker rooms. “Hey, Jack, wait up!” he yelled, hurrying to catch up to the taller player. “I just wanted to say good match, and thanks-”

“Bittle,” Jack interrupted. “It was a lucky shot.”

Eric froze on the steps as Jack walked away, all of his self-confidence crumbling and the old hatred of Jack Zimmermann returning.


	10. Chapter 9

Winter Screw was fast approaching for Samwell students. While Samwell was one of the most LGBT+ friendly schools in the United States, most people, especially the other hockey players, assumed Eric would be with a girl. 

Eric trailed behind Ransom, Holster, and Shitty as they discussed past Winter Screws. Sick of the topic of discussion, Eric demanded “Topic change! Now!” So of course, the topic changed to Eric’s Winter Screw. Ransom and Holster debated who they should set Eric up with. When they asked Eric his type, he panicked just a bit. 

“Oh, uh, huh, wouldn’t you believe! I think I left a pie baking… in the library! Gotta go check on it!” He scrambled away as fast as he could, leaving Ransom and Holster to come to the conclusion that the type of girl Eric would date was a girl who could bake.

 

~Later that day~

Eric paced in front of a bench, practicing his speech for the team. Shitty sat on the bench, mostly patiently listening. 

“Bitty!” Shitty interjected. “What is it you’re trying to say?”

“I guess I’m trying to say… I’m gay.” Eric wasn’t sure how to feel. Shitty was the first person at Samwell that Eric had told, and he certainly hadn’t pictured Shitty being the first person he came out to at Samwell. 

“Oh.” Shitty said. “Cool, bro! Thanks for trusting me with this moment, I really ‘preciate it.”

“Why the hell did that take all semester?” Eric wondered out loud, half to himself. He dropped onto the bench, Shitty moving to sit next to him. 

“Meh, everyone goes at their own pace, ya know? It’s a scary situation.” Shitty said, settling onto the bench. 

“Maybe I was scared.” Eric admitted. “I don’t have the greatest track record with sports teams and being gay, not to mention the wizarding world is kinda behind on that sort of thing…” He trailed off. “I guess I didn’t know what you guys were gonna do.” He finally finished.

“What did ya think we were gonna beat you up?” Shitty asked. When Eric didn’t say anything, Shitty exclaimed “Bits! We’re your fucking teammates! Your friends! Ransom and Holster spend half their time on and off the pitch looking out for you. Jack does too, in his own way.” Eric nodded. “We’ll have your back, bro, always.” Shitty finished softly.

“Thanks,” Eric said, equally softly. Sometimes it still surprised him how accepting Samwell was.


	11. Chapter 10

Spring semester finally rolled around. Eric decided the best way to kick off the semester was with a marathon bake in the Haus kitchen. He was apologizing to Betsy, his beloved oven, when someone interrupted him. 

“‘Sup. Is Shits around?” A young woman stood in the doorway, dressed in a jean jacket and shorts with tights and combat boots. 

Eric was just explaining that he could text Shitty when Shitty yelled “LARDO!”

Eric watched the hockey player tackle the frankly shorter and mostly unfazed woman with shock. Eric leaned out of the kitchen, watching the two wrestle, when Jack walked in the Haus.

“Oh, hey, Lardo. You’re back!” He said happily. Lardo (Eric guessed, although what kind of name was that?) extracted herself from Shitty and went over to hug Jack. “How was Kenya?”

“Zimmermann! It was kick ass. You didn’t let the team fall apart without me, did you?” She answered, completely dwarfed by Jack.

He laughed. “Never. Oh, and I see you’ve met Bittle already, eh?”

Lardo shook her head. “Haven’t actually.” She turned to shake Eric’s hand. “Hey. Name’s Lardo. Team manager. I keep the boys running. Shitty told me about your pies.”

“Goodness, it’s lovely to meet you,” Eric gripped Lardo’s hand, Southern politeness never leaving him. “Although you aren’t exactly what I pictured…”

Lardo laughed. “Pictured a 6 foot white dude? Probably ‘cause of all the stories the boys tell.” She made her way into the kitchen, following her nose. “You working on a pie?”

Eric followed her in. “Just starting. Want to help?” He offered, ever the gentleman.

“I’ll be your taste-tester.” Lardo grinned, and Eric immediately knew he was going to like Lardo.


	12. Chapter 11

Ever since the Yale match, it seemed like Jack hated Eric. Jack was tougher on the younger player than ever before. The treatment only made Eric more and more angry and resentful towards the captain.

Eric sat in front of his locker, pulling on jersey 15, when Murray and Hall came into the locker room to announce the lineup for the game. 

“Johnson, you’re Keeper. Birkholtz, Oluransi, Beaters. Knight, Zimmermann, and Bittle, Chasers…” Eric didn’t hear who was Seeking for that game. He was shocked Coach Hall would put him in on the first line. The others congratulated Eric, but Jack stepped up to talk to the coaches. They had a quiet argument that Jack clearly was not happy with the results of. 

For the rest of the season Jack and Eric stayed on the same line. Samwell made playoffs, but the biggest news was how improved Jack’s playing was. It seemed as if Eric only had to pass to Jack for him to rocket in a goal. Samwell was good enough to earn a spot in the College Press’s sports section’s Top 10 list. Just under the article was a scathing review of Jack. The author was wondering why Jack wasn’t already in the National Quidditch League, and was criticizing his decision to go to Samwell in the first place. Shitty read most of the article out loud to the team before Holster ripped it out of his hands and tossed it in the fire.

“That guy’s an asshole,” he declared, crossing his arms. Jack walked out of the room without a word. Eric watched him go, scrambling to come up with the words to comfort Jack.


	13. Chapter 12

It was the last game before Samwell could make the Final Four. It was a rough game, the other team’s Beaters were big and powerful, but Samwell had edged out a small lead going into hour two. 

“Bittle, if you get the Quaffle, wheel around back door and send it to me between the dots. You can do it!” Jack ordered as he flew past Eric. Eric glanced at the Beaters in panic. They had knocked Holster from his broom barely 20 minutes before. 

“I don’t know Jack…” Eric started. 

“Hey,” Jack looped back around to hover next to Eric. “I’ve got your back, Bittle.” Eric nodded.

The referee blew his whistle. He tossed the Quaffle in the air. Jack knocked it in Eric’s direction. Eric caught it, flying back towards Johnson before looping around and flying up the left of the pitch. He was behind the goal posts, looping around to throw the Quaffle to Jack, when the Bludger hit him square in the chest. Eric was knocked from his broom, the Quaffle dropping from his hands. He couldn’t remember a thing after that.

Eric woke up on the ground surrounded by his teammates. Ransom and Shitty helped him off the pitch, where he was whisked into the locker room for a concussion check by the school doctor. It was official, Eric couldn’t play for the rest of the season. Not that it mattered very much, Samwell lost the game and was out of the playoffs.


	14. Chapter 13

The end of the year came quickly. At team dinner, Eric won the John Carlisle award for exemplifying team spirit. To no one’s surprise, Jack won captaincy again, in an unanimous vote. 

However, to Eric’s surprise, he got Johnson’s dibs, and would be living in the Haus for the next three years. He had moved all of his boxes from the dorm to his room, and was working on unpacking when he heard a knock on the door. To his surprise, Jack stood on the other side. 

“Jack!” Eric exclaimed. “I thought you were on your way to Chicago for that prospect camp.”

“I’m about to head out,” Jack answered. “But first I needed to talk to you-”

“I was just planning on what I wanted to do with the Haus-”

“Bittle-”

“You know, clean up the kitchen and the den, invest in some new curtains-”

“BITTLE-”

Eric paused. “Sorry. You were saying?”

“Listen, before I left… I just wanted to make sure we were cool… and that you knew… I’m sorry about the hit. And after everything that happened this year, you still voted for me. I appreciate that.” Jack looked down at the smaller player to try to figure out his reaction. 

“Oh! Jack, of course.” Eric replied. “It’s been amazing playing with you.” 

“Don’t strain yourself moving,” Jack ordered, turning towards the stairs. “Get Ransom and Holster to help you.” He started down the stairs before pausing and yelling back “Eat more protein!”

Eric rolled his eyes, turning back to his unpacking. Next year was going to be good, especially if Jack didn’t revert back to hating him when fall semester rolled around.


End file.
